


Friends

by MaxRev



Series: Month of Fanfiction [4]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Drinking, Far Harbor, Friendship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 15:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxRev/pseuds/MaxRev
Summary: Late night bonding





	Friends

**Author's Note:**

> For the August month of fanfic [ challenge ](http://joufancyhuh.tumblr.com/post/162724115417/yourlocalpriestess-and-i-have-come-together-to) .
> 
> Day 5 -- Friends

The abandoned shack provided a brief bit of shelter from the rain that had begun to taper off in the waning light. Boone watched as the fog creeped up over the banks of the water’s edge, curving around objects as it passed. Looking around the ramshackle building, he observed the standard four walls, a roof and floor...ignoring the countless holes shattering the illusion of safety. Still, it did provide a place to come in out of the rain and that damned eerie fog.

Grabbing a couple of busted chairs barely held together by the corrosion of the metal, he and Old Longfellow sat down wearily around a fire barrel. The old man had gathered enough wood to get them through the night. The branches inside the barrel crackled and snapped, tiny embers shooting up before floating away into the air. Flames climbing high over the edge, making shadows dance on the walls like demons in hell. A fitting vision for this place.

“Fog ain't like nothin' you've seen in the Commonwealth, I’m bettin.” Longfellow spoke into the silence that surrounded them.

A bottle hung loosely from knobby weathered fingers, covered to the knuckles in much-mended but still tattered gloves, meager protection against the damp. Boone eyed the bottle, wondering how much was left and if the old man would be willing to share.

“No, I haven’t. There are places, further south of Boston, essentially swamp land, where I’ve seen a bit. But this?” Bright blue eyes gave one last longing glance at the whiskey before turning to observe the fog as it slowly slithered by, tendrils reaching out like ghostly fingers desperate to hold onto something real. “This is an entirely different animal. Sharp teeth and all.”

The old man barked out a laugh, “Mainlanders think a dose of Rad-Away's all you need.”

Boone continued to stare out at the night but his spoke up, an edge to his words, “Got plenty of that but I also have enough ammo and two upgraded weapons to back it up. I’m tougher than I look, old man.”

Instead of taking offense at the younger man’s attitude, Longfellow just chuckled and took another swig of his bottle. Without conscious thought, Boone’s eyes turned and watched, eyes meeting the older man’s as the bottle was handed over. A corner of his mouth rose in response and Boone reached for the bottle, tipping it back, anticipating the heady feeling of the burn as it traveled down his throat and warmth spread through his body.

“Seen you in action. You’re not half bad in a scrap.”

A full blown smile bloomed on Boone’s face. Getting an admission from the salty old man was something indeed. Hoisting the bottle in the air, he acknowledged the compliment as an answering smile was returned.

It was good to have a friend around here.


End file.
